


MacMillan

by orphan_account



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gen, Hope you got your tetanus shot, Kind of a branch off the original story, Knives, LET'S HOP ON THE ANGST TRAIN KIDDOS, MacMillan Estate, No real kinda romance, Who am I kidding I'm basically rewriting the story, did I mention blood, just story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 10:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13339116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Charlotte hasn't seen her father for years. Or the estate. But she remembers them.Yet this...This...This isn't how she remembers them.But it's how she will remember them now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyyyyyy. Welcome to the shit storm. Uhm, this story was basically just a really "fun" dream I had a while ago, which I decided to write out because... yeah. So, once again. Enjoy.

“Charlotte! Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlooootte!”

            That piercing voice echoed through the hallway of the dimly lit house and Charlotte cringed. She took one breath out, pulled the bottom of her oversized shirt further down over her pajama shorts, and continued brushing her teeth. The green toothbrush was fairly new, causing her oversensitive gums to bleed to the stiff bristles. The now pink tinted toothpaste she spit into the sink was washed down almost immediately as she turned on the faucet to avoid looking at it.

            The stomping up the stairs caused another sigh and another round of brushing, just to try and avoid a conversation. And just before she thought she was smart enough to actually _close_ the bathroom door, a small hand stopped her on the white wood. It struggled to push the door the rest of the way open but succeeded soon enough and a bright young girl stood in the doorway, looking up at the mildly unimpressed college student in front of her. She smiled brightly up at her sister as she took one last look, and then continued brushing her teeth.

            The young girl slightly pouted at being ignored, and finally pulled on her sister’s larger shirt. Charlotte didn’t even move.

            “Charlotte, come on!” The girl whined and Charlotte groaned, finally spitting out the rest of her toothpaste residue into the sink before washing it down, as well as cleaning the toothbrush before putting it in a holder on the countertop. Looking at herself in the mirror, she took one last deep breathe before finally responding.

            “What, Sarah…” Charlotte turned on the sink to the hottest setting and waited a second for the water to heat up. Her smaller sister almost cheered with joy as she could see in the mirror that barely went low enough for her head, and she closed her eyes to run through her sentences in her mind.

            “What happened to daddy?”

            Charlotte splashed a wave of water on her face. “Why don’t you ask mom?”

            “She told me to ask you!”

            _Son of a bitch_. “Ah, yeah, uhm.” Charlotte pumped soap into her hands, and dipped them in water to get them bubbly. Rubbing them together, she scrubbed the soap onto her face as she somewhat answered the question. “Well. Dad went real crazy when Sophie got really sick and so he left us. He’s still on the estate and so we moved so we could get away from him. The end.” She finished bluntly as she shut off the water, droplets still dripping from her chin as she went to wipe her face off with the bath towel behind her.

            Silence filled the bathroom as she continued to drag the cloth down her face in each which way, and finally it ended when Charlotte removed her face from the towel. She turned on her heels to look at her sister who was now standing blankly on the tile floor, looking slightly down at her twiddling feet.

            “What, Sarah…” Charlotte whined as she knew her sister wasn’t satisfied with that answer. She twiddled her fingers behind her back a bit more before she finally responded.

            “Ms. Smith agrees with you but that can’t be right.” She finally pulled a newspaper from behind her back and stared intently at it before dropping it back down to her side. “Didn’t Dad send us away because he loved us?” Puppy dog eyes stared back at Charlotte and she sighed. Sarah had tried the same routine that worked on everyone else on her for the longest time. It didn’t work at this point.

            “Dad _didn’t_ send us away. It was Mom who was finally fed up with him and _took_ us away.” Charlotte stated bluntly as she grabbed a handful of moisturizer for her face. She began rubbing her warm hands over his still damp face and Sophie finally collapsed into a sad crisscrossed position on the floor. Pulling the newspaper back up to her face she crunched her face closer to the print as if it would reveal some miracle information neither of them knew.

            She finally threw the pile of papers on the floor and crossed her arms, finally excepting the truth. Their dad left them because he had gone crazy with the love for his one daughter, and had forgotten the other two in the process. Well other _one_ at the time.

            “Why did Ms. Smith even bring that up?” Charlotte finally chimed in and Sarah shrugged her shoulders. She picked up the newspaper once again and held it out to Charlotte who was drying her hands of the lotion that now coated her face. Charlotte raised an eyebrow but finished with the towel and grabbed the print from her sister’s hand. Flipping it open dramatically she read through the top titles on the page, wondering how this piece of news had to do with anything.

 

LOCAL MAN DROWNS IN POND AFTER TRYING TO SAVE DOG

 

HOMELESS RATES DROP AFTER NEW SHELTER IS A HIT

 

            It was just the same boring shit. Charlotte turned confused to her sister before beckoning her. “What does this newspaper have to do with anything.” Her sister took a second before motioning for her to turn the paper over. Charlotte, once again highly skeptical, flipping the paper over after a few seconds and almost dropped it on the counter.

            A picture of the ivy-covered gates to the driveway of the old Estate was in the center of the page with a big bold title above it.

 

LOCAL POLICE CALLING FOR FULL SCALE INVESTIGATION OF LOCAL DISTURBANCES

 

            An important question finally hit Charlotte. “Where did you get this newspaper?”

            Sarah shrugged her shoulders before Charlotte put her hands on her hips, tilting her head in disapproval. “Where did you get this, Sarah.”

            “Ms. Smith gave it to me. She thought it would be important for me to see.”

            “Important for _me_ , not you! Damn school teacher.” Charlotte whispered under her breath as she shooed Sarah away. “Go eat some dinner and get to bed. Tell Ms. Smith if she brings up your dad again she’ll be hearing from me!” She yelled to Sarah as she made her way away from the bathroom and down the foyer stairs. Charlotte waited until she was out of sight before closing the bathroom door and reading in depth on the article.

            _Local police have been investigating several reports of screaming and other loud occurrences from the residence that formerly belonged to the MacMillan family. Other sources have provided to us that most of the MacMillan family has moved off the property because of unknown reasons, but the father figure of the MacMillan family still remains. Police are still unsure what is causing the disturbances but swear that they will investigate later this week._

 

            Charlotte took a second to reread through the article before dropping the newspaper on the countertop. Her dad was _still **there**_? Charlotte couldn’t remember much of her father to be honest, but she did remember his smile. He had this blinding smile that could brighten anyone’s day. But in the later days of his obsession over Sophie, she really didn’t see it that much anymore. He was tall, and he liked to carry people on his shoulders when they did something good. He was very protective of his entire family, before he obsessed over one in particular. He constantly gave people high-fives, even though he usually injured someone in the process. He was a construction worker for the city, and he constantly waved to people whenever they drove by.

            He was the nicest person she’d ever met. But something changed that fall.

            He stopped talking to people other than his family. He stopped going to work. He stopped cooking for his wife when she was tired after work. He stopped going to church on Sundays. The only person he spent more time with was Charlotte’s Grandma, who was staying with them after her husband had died only weeks earlier. They thought maybe it was just the grieving process of him getting over his father dying, but after several months they knew this was something bigger.

            But they still didn’t catch it. 

 

            Charlotte snapped out of it as the door to the bathroom opened, her mother’s concerned head peeping in from the side.

            “What was all the yelling for?” She muttered quietly as she yawned. Pushing the door open with a limp hand, she rubbed her eyes and stepped into the room as Charlotte looked once again through the newsprint on the countertop. Charlotte’s mother brushed the golden locks out of her eyes and sighed as she glanced to where Charlotte was looking. The newspaper caught her eye and she immediately snatched it off the countertop, practically pressing her nose into the paper to make sure she was seeing right.

            After a few more seconds of her glancing over the text, she finally looked up from the gray piece, looking awfully concerned at Charlotte.

            “Where is this from?”

            “Sarah’s school teacher gave it to her.” Charlotte responded blankly as she poked and prodded at her face in the mirror. Waiting for a response, Charlotte’s eyes wandered to her mother’s hands on the newspaper. She was looking frail. She never had before but it seemed as if the newspaper had drained all the color from her body.

            “Damn school teacher.” Charlotte’s mother responded and Charlotte stifled a laugh.

            “Yeah, I don’t know what this is all about so…”

            “Promise me you won’t go looking after this.” Charlotte’s mother interjected into the conversation immediately and Charlotte stopped, mouth still agape. She raised a questioning eyebrow as she closed her lips, turning her head slightly to one side as she went. Charlotte’s mother sighed in exasperation and repeated herself once more. “ _Promise me_ you _won’t_ go after this.” She waved the newspaper that was in her hands in the air for emphasis.

            Charlotte sighed and nodded. “I _promise_ mom. Wouldn’t dream of it!” She ended with, crossing her heart dramatically and shaking her head with a pout upon her lips. Charlotte’s mother stood there a few seconds longer before finally dropping the newspaper on the counter, exhausted it seemed. The countertop tile was frigid against her fingers as she placed one hand down next to the paper and used the other to massage her temples. After a few more seconds of observing Charlotte, she deemed her scared enough from the promise, grabbed the newspaper once again, now crinkled and torn, and left the room unceremoniously. Charlotte continued to smile as her mother trotted down the stairs and only turned to face her room when she was out of sight.

            She dashed out of the bathroom and into her room, quietly slamming the door shut as she excitedly grabbed her raincoat. Struggling to slip on her hiking shoes, she snatched her old military flashlight from her countertop as well as an extra pair of rain pants.

            Charlotte stopped for only a second as she was packing her hiking backpack and looked at the door. The only light in her room shone on the door and upon that door taped was the only Happy Birthday card she had ever received from her father since he was gone.

            It was about a year after they had left the estate and a new card had somehow ended up on the porch of their new home, not even in the mailbox. Which means he either left to hand deliver it or someone else did. Either way, the unmarked envelope alarmed everyone except Charlotte in the household. She knew what it was.

            And when she opened it, everyone else knew too. Her father’s chicken scratch of writing decorated a plain white piece of paper folded in half and although the rest of her family desperately tried to get rid of the somewhat creepy paper, she held onto it for dear life for her 11th birthday.

            Charlotte found herself smiling widely back in her room as she continued to stuff things into her hiking pack. She didn’t need the police. She was going to solve this by herself. She was going to talk to her Dad again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *chanting* you better watch out, you better watch out, You Better Watch Out, YOU BETTER WATCH OUT

Quickly waving off her friend’s noisy car, she trotted up to the overgrown driveway to the Estate. The driveway was simply a long windy runway up to the property, which was even a little while further before you even got to the house. But with the ivy and tree branches crossing the entire cracked pavement, Charlotte had almost missed it.

            Ducking under the low hanging branches, she continued into the dark pathway, pulling out of flashlight halfway through to guide her way. She followed the edge of the cracked driveway as weeds and other plants rooted their ways up through the middle of the cement. It took about fifteen minutes, but she finally ducked and weaved her way to the gate of the property, the same brick wall surrounding the wide property her father had inherited.

            But the gate had changed. Instead of the intricately carved metal she remembered, a makeshift scrap metal gate was in its place that screamed tetanus. Rusted and grown over with even more plant life, the gate looked almost lifeless and like it was going to fall off the hinges it sat upon. Charlotte shined her flashlight around the edges of the metal, trying to find them best way to tackle her task. She decided upon a few ivy branches along the side of the metal near the brick, looking conveniently like they would handle her weight.

            Grasping the top of the wall, she used the ivy as a foothold to push herself closer to the top. Finally, she leaped to grab one of the metal rods in the top of the brick wall and succeeded, heaving herself up to the top of the brick wall a few second later. She quietly leaped over the wall as quietly as she could, and landed softly on the dirt ground beneath her.

            Brushing herself off, she waited one second before looking around to find the pathway that should have been next to her.

            “Who are _you_?” An angry whisper assaulted her before she even stood up. Before she could find the source, it muttered once again, “Nevermind. Come here!” She was pulled into a bush near the wall and pressed against the back of a tree. She squirmed instantly before she saw the face of who was covering her mouth with his hand.

            It was the son of that millionaire. It was Jake Park. The one who went missing three years ago.

            Charlotte stopped squirming as she stared in awe at the man before her. He’d looked like he’d seen hell. His shoulder was bleeding profusely as well as a trauma somewhere on the top of his head that dripped muddy blood down the left side of his face. His eyes shifted unevenly around as he finally let go of Charlotte but made sure to keep her inside of the bush. He did snatch the flashlight from her hands and turn it off aggressively before shoving it back in her hands.

            He took one last deep breath before continuing. “Who are you?” An even angrier tone graced his speech.

            “I’m Charlotte. I live…” A hand was shoved back over her mouth as an even stomping came closer to their bush. Jake’s eyes widened as he pressed deeper into the bush and concealed Charlotte. She sat still as the stomping slowly receded in the opposite direction. Jake gave it a few more seconds for good measure before once again removing his hand.

            Wiping the back of her hand on her mouth to remove the dirt from Jake’s hands, Charlotte continued. “I’m _Charlotte_. I _live_ here.” She reiterated and Jake’s eyes widened. The stomping was close, but not quite as close as before. She could tell Jake was extremely uncomfortable and as soon as the stomping gave way to a slight break, he pulled both of them out of the bush and towards the gate. Stumbling their way closer to the scrap metal, Jake grunted as his wounds continued to drip blood onto the dirt ground. Charlotte, extremely confused, as dragged by Jake as he continued to make his way closer.

            There was already two other people opening the gate, seemingly with a giant switch connected to the side of the brick wall. Both young looking women, one will fiery red hair and the other with beautiful dark skin. Both covered in blood.

            Jake stumbled towards them and they turned, happiness filling their faces as they finally reached him. The one with red hair whispered to Jake and they crouched in some more tall grass near the gate before she started to wrap him with bandages and stitches for his wounds. Continuing to talk, it only took a few more seconds before the bandages were loosely wrapped around his head and shoulder, supporting his wounded limbs well it seemed. Charlotte simply waited in front of the gate, wondering what these people were doing here. And of course, asking them why.

            In completely full volume, Charlotte stated. “Who are you guys and why are you here?”

            They all turned to her instantly, mostly with faces of pure terror. The stomping was coming closer but Charlotte was disinterested at this point. She stomped her foot down as they didn’t answer and continued even louder.

            “Who _are_ you guys and _why_ are you…” Before she could finish, the dark-skinned girl pushed her hands against Charlotte’s mouth as to shut her up. Struggling to remove her hands, Charlotte and the other girl grappled as the red head opened the gate. It was only at this point of Charlotte trying to wiggle free that she realized that the other two were also _covered_ in blood. The dark-skinned girl had blood coming from scratches on her arms and legs, the red head blood pouring out of another wound that protruded from her shoulder as well. Charlotte’s struggle slowed as the girl removed her hands and looked around frantically.

            Getting the point, Charlotte began whispering, but still in the same angry tone. “Okay. Fine. But what are you _doing_ here?” The gate opened and instantly Jake pushed his way past the slow-moving metal and out onto the driveway to escape. The red head motioned for the dark-skinned girl to follow before dashing out as well, clutching her shoulder desperately. The remaining girl left turned back to Charlotte and grabbed her hand, starting towards the door while Charlotte dug her heels into the dirt. She continued, trying desperately to take Charlotte with her to no avail before she looked back in confusion.

            Charlotte removed her hand quickly from the other’s grasp as she massaged her wrist. The other looked in terror behind Charlotte and Charlotte herself stood tall, raising a questioning eyebrow at her again. It took her no more time to get out of there as the others; the dark-skinned girl immediately rounding the still opening gate and dashing down the uneven cement.

            Charlotte was left standing on the dirt, staring blankly at the gate everyone had left out of. She rubbed her temples one more time before turning behind her, only to be confronted with someone already in her way.

            Stumbling backwards in shock, she almost tripped over another branch before regaining her balance and finally being able to examine who she rudely just bumped into. Still swinging slightly, she started to apologize before being cut off by a hand to her throat.

            She squeaked as the hand continued to push her back into a tree behind her, sinking into her neck easily and sliding her up the tree by her throat. Struggling and wheezing for air, Charlotte clawed and grasped at the hand that held her there, not even getting a good look at the thing that was attacking her. Her hands foolishly slid off the attacker hand as it held her there with one hand, strong forearm not wavering as she beat down on it with her puny fists.

            Charlotte kicked and tried to scream to the best of her ability before she found her vision going blurry. The gurgling of her attempts at screaming left nothing in the forest as she realized that the people she had found were _not_ coming back. In a final attempt, she tried to find her perpetrators face to stab at their eyes with her fingers; but upon investigation she found her fingers only grazing along a smooth surface where their nose should have been. Trying desperately one more time, she felt her hand betray her as it pulled back against her will. But as she held her hand up in defense of her face, her vision going blurry, the grip loosened before she was dropped on the ground rather unceremoniously.

            Charlotte collapsed into a heap on the ground next to the tree and coughed heavily as her vision threatened to continue closing in. She heaved in breath after breath as her body screaming for more air, just _more._ Clawing at her throat to cover the stinging skin against the cold air, she coughed more, feeling some blood rise in her throat with the pressure that had come with the grip. The large figure to her left continued to stand there as she turned her head to look.

            Upon inspection she found a man, tall in stature, with large meat hooks protruding out of his shoulders, bloodied overalls and a mask with no warmth, even with its wide, open, toothy grin. His skin was burned and cracked along his shoulders and wounds dripped out of his shoulders and upper arms, leaving blood to slightly trail down his torso. Vision darkening around the edges, Charlotte found her heart beating out of her chest as he bent down into a crouch next to her, face inches from hers.

            _I’m going to die._

            With her last conscious move, she shrunk back into her skin and pressed herself closer to the tree, trying to ignore the threatening man in front of her. Time seemed to stop as the man did not come any closer, but simply tilted his head in examination of Charlotte. Her vision finally faded to black as his hands came from underneath him and edged their way closer to Charlotte.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing is completed so I'm posting it all at the same time but I do enjoy reading what you think :P COMMENT! cause idk it gives me self worth or something lol


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pssssst. Hey. This is where it gets sad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSSSSSTTTTT. also. if you want to hear the music box... uh trust me this'll make sense later uh here's the thing i based it off of:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFfe4ZRQOH8  
> Credit to y'know - Wintergatan

Charlotte groaned as the morning sun hit her face, refusing to get up to do chores she knew were necessary this morning. Even though she was on break, she needed to take Sarah to school and to help Mom clean up the kitchen from last nights dinner because she didn’t remember emptying the dishwasher to make room for the new dirty plates before she…

            She left.

            Charlotte jerked her eyes opened as she remembered where she was. The driveway. The gate. The people. The… man. _Oh God._

            Charlotte surveyed her surroundings as she realized she was comfortably nestled into a bed, sheets almost covering her head. She let them stay there as she slowly turned over, as if still asleep, and continued to glance at the room around her. It was extremely degraded, the entire walls of the room peeling and crumbling away from their original positions. The wood planks that held the frame of the building together were eaten away by termites and the glass shattered away from windows that would have held in heat. But the more Charlotte looked around the room, the more she seemed to remember.

            This was _her_ room.

            The window led to the backyard because her father was afraid of her adventurous nature leading her out of that same window. The walls she painted first pink, then red, then eventually to a nice neutral gray that matched with the rest of the themes she decided on for her room. Her desk had occupied the large hole in the wall near the window, which let in a large draft that actually made Charlotte pull her covers over her head a little more. There was one lightbulb left on the ceiling that she remembered breaking more than once, either through bets or just plain clumsiness.

            This was it.

            And this was what it had become now.

 

            Charlotte, finally deciding she would have to eventually move from her position to avoid certain death, slowly pulled the covers off of her head and sat up, peering around the room to find the other half beyond the edge of her bed was pitch black.

            And playing music.

            Like an old music box, it sounded as if it was being turned and Charlotte simply sat in her bed with fear because even though she knew that box was from her father as a gift on her first birthday, _someone_ had to be turning it. Frozen with fear, she let it continue as she could not move. Not now. _He_ was obviously there, sitting in the darkness, continuing to turn his sadistic version of her broken childhood.

            The sad tune of the music box continued to echo around the room as Charlotte slowly moved her hands around the bedframe to find any loose piece of wood or metal to defend herself with. The sad piano and key tones continued as she regretfully traced her hands over the smooth edges of the bedframe, finding absolutely nothing to help her. She was simply trapped. She was going to die in the place she had deemed her safe haven.

            The tones finally stopped, and a small clink of the wood music box signaled Charlotte that it was time to go. She leaped out of the bed and desperately tried to reach the hole in the wall before the man to no avail. He caught her pumping arm easily and she struggled as he pulled her back into his embrace, using both arms in an effort to remove him from her torso. She kicked and screamed as she was no longer being restricted in her airways, forcing him to stumble and trip with her in his grasp. Yet, he continued. He just barreled on through the dilapidated house.

            His wounds littered arms coated her in a thin layer of his blood around her raincoat, and she continued to try and kick his legs, his knees, his… _anything_. They continued to walk through the house as Charlotte screamed bloody murder, walking past the old master bedroom, now completely crumbled into the basement beneath. Walking through corridor after corridor of the once lively home continued to force Charlotte to believe this wasn’t the house she was raised in. But the occasional familiar sight would bring her back into reality that this was where she was going to die; where it all began. She struggled as they marched past the collapsed staircase and Charlotte failed to grab onto anything that could slow the man down. They passed the living room with the bricks of the old fireplace completely crushed into dust and finally they ended in the kitchen, with some tables and countertop still intact.

            But upon noticing the large blood covered blade and rusty bear traps on the stone, Charlotte struggled even harder, trying desperately one last time to fight for her life. But it was no use. His grip was so tight that Charlotte could feel her diaphragm struggling to pump air in and out of her lungs as she screamed. She finally watched as he walked closer to the countertop with the large cleaver.

            Realizing her situation, Charlotte stopped screaming. She stopped kicking. She stopped punching. She just _stopped._ It wasn’t worth it.

            She couldn’t escape.

 

            And no one was coming.

 

            Limp in his arms, she accepted her fate, realizing that what her Mother had said was true. She never should have come here. Oh, what she would think if she saw her now. She was going to die at home, at least.

            The man finally placed her roughly on top of the countertop and reached behind himself to grab something. Charlotte knew she couldn’t outrun him. She might as well not give him a reason to make her death long and painful. She simply sat still as her attacker slowly turned his head to the item in his hands. Charlotte, taking one final deep breath in, closed her eyes.

            _I’m ready_.

           

            But instead of anything sharp coming near Charlotte, she felt a tender hand place itself on her face, wrapping its thumb around her cheekbone and supporting her neck with its other fingers. And suddenly pressure found its way across her chest and around her back as she realized he was hugging her.

            Hugging her.

            He. The man. The one that was, you know, trying to kill her.  

            He squeezed her tightly as Charlotte stood frozen still on the countertop, eyes still closed for the fear of what she would find when she opened them. Finally, the pressure subsided, and a large sigh echoed in the silence of the dusty kitchen.

            “You can open your eyes.” A gruffly voice that sounded as if it had not spoken in _years_ met Charlotte’s ears. Even though she heard the slight command, she still kept them shut. Her _body_ didn’t want to open them.

            Finally, another sigh echoed, and a rustling occurred to Charlotte’s right before a loud clanging of metal farther away from her. She peaked her eyes open to see what had caused it, and was instantly confronted with the large man in the mask in front of her _throwing_ his cleaver and bear traps across the room away from her. Allowing herself finally to open her eyes, she glanced at the face of the man, or what she could see of it.

            Dry, cracked lips peaked out from under the crooked smile of the mask and his eyes were completely hidden by a dark shadow. She took the time to examine the rest of him, as it seemed he wasn’t going to kill her. Yet.

            His wounds leaked as he moved, dripping blood from his shoulder all the way down to his overall pants. The hooks in his shoulder moved as his shoulder did, moving in and out of the muscle as it was flexed. The top of his shoulders, cracked and blackened, almost as if by burns, revealed fleshy pink tones underneath the dark charcoal color.

            He finally finished throwing his last bear trap across the room and turned back to Charlotte as she sat as small as she could on the countertop. The man motioned for her to look to her left and Charlotte hesitantly did so, feeling with her hand first. Her fingertips met with some paper, and it crinkled under her shaky touch.

            She turned her head to find a crudely decorated card, and as she picked it up, she recognized the handwriting.

            It was her fathers.

            The man seemed highly uncomfortable as Charlotte flipped open the card with a crudely drawn birthday cake on the front. On the inside it wrote in big letters:

HAPPY 12TH BIRTHDAY!

            And along the side of this nicely spaced font, there was a small carrot after the “12th” to reveal more numbers. They continued up as a list, showing 13th, 14th, 15th, 16th… all the way up to 19th. Underneath the addition of the numbers was a very neatly written, “Love, Dad”. Charlotte flipped over the card once, and then twice as if to see if there was any trick. The man continued to fidget with his hands behind his back as Charlotte read through the card once more to find any hidden messages.

            Her 19th birthday was only a few months ago. This meant her father was either alive, or Mr. Scary Tall Man was writing things in for him. Or it meant…

            Charlotte looked up quickly to find the man looking at her rather inquisitively, as if to see what she was going to respond with. She slowly placed the card down on the countertop she was sitting upon, and placed her hands in her lap. Cocking her head to the side, she tried to see it.

            The arms fit. The torso fit. The height fit.

            But without removing the masks she couldn’t be sure.

 

            And if she was wrong…

 

            Charlotte gently hopped off the countertop, making sure not to kick up too much dust as she landed. The man continued to stand still. She made her way over, taking painfully slow steps towards the mysterious man. The man continued to stand still. Hands reaching, Charlotte finally stalked her way close enough to get a good grip on him. The man continued to stand still. She reached her hands up his torso and finally ended with her fingertips touching the rough and grime coated mask. The man continued to stand still. And as Charlotte started to wiggle the mask free from it hold on his face, he sighed loudly and lowered his head to make it easier.

            With a small gesture, the mask slid free from his face and Charlotte placed it gingerly down on the countertop next to him. He rubbed his face with his hands once, and then twice, as if to delay the inevitable. But as he removed his fingers from the cracks between his eyes, Charlotte knew.

            Even with the grime covering the skin where the cracks in the mask were. Even with the large scars across his face and down his neck. Even with the cracked charcoal skin tracing its way up to his left browbone.

            Charlotte knew.

 

 

            “Dad?...”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AND THIS IS WHERE IT GETS PAINFUL! :D KILL ME!

The smile. It was what gave him away. With the simple phrase from Charlotte, his wide smile edged its way onto his face. And that was the deciding factor.

            Charlotte jumped into a hug, wrapping her arms around his neck as she held him close. She had found him. She had _actually_ found him. He hugged back, burying his face into her neck and holding onto her desperately.

            “I thought I lost you.” She muffled through his arm as she pushed her face closer to him.

            “Never, kiddo.” He instantly replied, and he placed his chin upon her shoulder. He finally pulled her back and took a nice look over her. He chuckled once, and the smile came back into view. “You look exactly like Carrie.”

            Charlotte smiled now and brushed her hair loose from her ponytail behind her ears. She wanted this to be nice. She desperately wanted this to be the wholesome reunion she had always dreamed of. But it wasn’t.

            There were too many questions still unanswered.

            “Who were those people, Dad?” She finally broke the silence and he sighed, pressing his hands into his temples. Opening his mouth to answer the question, he waited a second before responding. But in that second a clinking of metal from the opposite side of the room caught his attention, and he immediately pushed Charlotte behind him. He ushered her out of the room and into a nearby closet, begging her silently to follow his instructions, and she did. She closed the closet silently as she peered through the slots in the wood. Her father put his mask back on and slowly walked away from the closet before his large, stomping footsteps stopped in the middle of the room.

            Charlotte was left breathing heavily into the door of the locker as she waited for whoever was in the room with her and her father to leave. It was just the unknown that scared her.

            “It’s just me.” He father’s voice suddenly pierced the cold lonesome of the air.

            “No, there was no one else.” It seemed as if he was talking to himself as he continued answer questions that, to Charlotte, had not been asked.

            “What are you talking about? It was _just_ me, asshole.”

            “You come any closer and we both know what’s gonna happen.”

            “I’m warning you, Myers.”

            “I swear I will…” A grunt finished the sentence and afterwards a large thud against the ground.

            Charlotte wasn’t stupid.

            She knew what that meant.

            And she knew what that meant for her.

 

            She slowly peeked as much as she could out of the locker before opening the door. Placing her feet slowly on the ground, she crept out of the wooden locker and closed to door. The countertop was tall enough for her to hide behind, and so she did, pressing her side against the rough wood as it pulled at her clothing. She heard a struggle from the other side of the wood and continued to stay hidden as a nice slicing sound rang out throughout the room. Another crash made her jump as she finally decided peeking wasn’t _that_ bad of an idea if it was to notice and incoming body or item.

            Raising her head over the side of the cracked stone in front of her, Charlotte moved her eyes across the room to find her father. Upon not finding him, she slowly raised herself even further up to get a better look.

            And a sudden crash answered her question. Her father burst through the wall next to her and fell on the ground in front of the countertop, landing face first onto a pile of _prickly_ destroyed wood. He groaned as he tried to stand up, falling back down to his stomach a few times before he got his knees to support him. Grunting as he held onto his side, Charlotte peeked over the edge before making her way a little closer to her father.

            He immediately ushered her backwards and she stopped in her tracks, pulling herself closer to the countertop once again. Continuing with small hand motions, he raised his head as his eyes pleaded with her to get going. She had never seen him look so concerned.

            She immediately turned around and started to creep around the edge of the kitchen towards the hole in the wall which would make for a quick escape. Continuing to hear her father struggle on the ground, she waited at the hole in the wall to hear if he would get up. His large boots clomped on the ground for one second before they stopped, and Charlotte raised her head to get a better look at what was going on.

            Struggling. Sounds of choking filled the air and Charlotte ducked her head back to down just enough to see a large man, maybe even larger than her father, holding him up in the air by his throat. He was clawing, punching and squeezing his attacker’s arms to no avail, it didn’t even phase him once. His perpetrator was dressed in what seemed like a mechanic’s smock, wrinkled and baggy in some places as it would have been as if it was well used. But the shocking thing was his face.

            The stark whiteness of his face compared to the darkness that surrounded the rest of the room. His head seemed almost unattached to his body as he continued to hold Charlotte’s father above the floor, his feet swiping uselessly at the broken ground beneath him. His entire face was a stark white, with what seemed like black holes for eyes.

            Charlotte wracked her brain for he seemed so familiar and as soon as her father squeaked out another word, it hit her.

            “Michael!”

            _Michael Myers. Dear God._ And of course, as Charlotte was internally panicking that her father was going to actual die at the hands of a serial killer, a twig broke under her light footwork.

 

            Time seemed to stop.

            Charlotte stopped moving, looking like a deer in the headlights at the gaze of the man as he turned his head slowly towards her. His animatronic movements terrified her as she continued to keep the gaze with his lifeless eyes, tilting his head only slightly as if _curious_. Her father struggled in his grasp for one more second before his hand simply opened slightly, causing him to slip free and crash upon the floor. His groan pierced the silence that lingered in the air as he grasped at his side, Charlotte seeing out of the corner of her eyes a very clear shade of _red_ in his direction. Myers’ gaze stayed strong. Charlotte took one more step as she held his gaze, seeing out of the corner of her eyes his arm move. And the flash of metal was all it took.

            Her eyes flitted to the flash and came across the largest and bloodiest kitchen knife she had seen in her entire life. And that was it.

           

            She bolted, turned tail and ran, away from the building, weaving in and out of the trees. She didn’t take the time to look behind her, his light footsteps made at least _some_ noise. Crashing palettes and boxed behind her, Charlotte continued, feeling her heart beating almost out of her chest. The endless landscape seemed to drag on forever, and Charlotte felt her feet pounding into the ground again and again and again. And finally it came into view, her saving grace.

            _The exit_.

           

            The crumbling and rusted corrugated metal once again popped into her view and Charlotte almost cried with happiness. Her lungs screamed as she used the last of her energy to turn closer to it.

            Her feet slowed as she didn’t hear Myers’ footsteps behind her anymore, now stumbling into the exit gate, struggling to catch her breath. The bricks beneath her feet clicked with the heels of her hiking boots, and she stopped, hands on her knees, to really let her body recover. She had escaped. She had gotten away from a serial killer.

            As she was picking herself up from a crouch, a shadow fell across her feet.

            She stopped.

            Keeping her head down as she raised herself slower, she breathed out quickly as the shadow came a little closer to her and blocked the light from above her head. _Well, almost._ His large hands came into her field of view as she continued to stay in the crouch before they came up quickly to her as she tried to dodge.

            Yeah, dodging was going to need some work.

            She felt a sharp pain in her side as the knife plunged itself into where her lower ribs should be. Feeling the bile coming up in her throat, she gagged, but contained herself from puking all of Myers, probably for the better. Feeling the cold metal inside her chest, she felt tears well in her eyes as the pain hit her. The searing was the worst, leaving a horrible stinging as if a fire was there instead of the solid steel. She raised her head into his chest as she fell over, forehead hitting his rough mechanic’s jumpsuit as the wind was knocked out of her and her vision started to blur.

            His other hand grabbed her shoulder as he pushed the knife farther in, twisting as he went for maximum pain. Her hands gripped and slipped from his jumpsuit again and she felt the tears in her eyes spill over as the sweet, sticky liquid started to pour from the open wound. She struggled to conjure words to say _anything_ , she couldn’t even conjure a sob, as she opened her mouth and immediately coughed, splattering a nice coating of blood onto his denim clothing. At this, he removed the knife, keeping a firm hand on Charlotte’s shoulder as to keep her upright as her legs gave out from underneath her, and used the knife tip to tilt her head up to look at him, leaving a thin layer of her own blood coating her chin. His grip under her arm kept her there like a ragdoll, glancing up at him helplessly, feeling nothing but the oxygen stinging her insides. That’s when she saw them.

            Those _eyes_.

            Those damned pitch back eyes were the only things staring back at her.

            Her arms wouldn’t move. They simply complained as her entire mind was brought to the fact that, _your blood is leaking out of your body and down your torso and down your leg and down your foot and_ …

            He once again tilted his head in curiosity before raising his knife clad hand into the air beside his head. Charlotte gurgled the blood out of her throat before realizing it was useless. It wasn’t a man in front of her, it was Death himself.

            But if she was going to die, it wasn’t going to be a sad occasion. It was over. Finally.

            And she smiled.

            A blood-drenched, half-crooked, and oddly unnerving smile.

            And Michael hesitated.

            And that was enough for Laurie.

           

            “Michael!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol this chapter was fun idk, knife stuff is fun to writteeeeeeeee


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> YOU THOUGHT THE PAIN TRAIN WAS DONE? HAHAHAHA IT GETS WORSE!
> 
> EMOTIONAL AND PHYSICAL PAIN HERE WE COME! WOOO WOOOOOOOO

“Michael!”

            His head immediately turned in the direction of the open gate, eyes following the pavement until it met the group of survivors Charlotte had seen earlier. One girl with dirty blonde hair stood in front of the rest of them, holding her arm as it bled from her shoulder to her elbow. Michael slowly lowered the knife as his attention was directed elsewhere. And as the seconds seem to tick by as the two stared at each other, Charlotte felt herself slipping.

            Not just out of his grip but out of consciousness. The world was spinning. And she was stuck in some horrible center of the global top. As black started to creep around the edges of her vision, she felt herself drop, not the pain, but the pressure. Michael’s hand was left open in the vacancy of her shoulder, and he left her on the ground.

            Charlotte kept her head low as she struggled to keep her eyes open. The blood beneath her coated her cheek and hair as she tried to push herself onto her elbows, her knees, anything. But as she put any strain on her abdomen, she collapsed. She watched as Michael’s brown shoes walked further and further away from her, and towards the girl with the blonde hair.

            Determination littered across her face, she pushed one last effort into her arms as she heaved herself off the ground and onto her elbows and knees, feeling immense pain inside of her torso. Charlotte breathed out heavily as she softly heard Michael walk away from her, his footsteps getting lighter and lighter in her hearing. But everything was getting lighter compared to the pounding of her heart in her head.

            She pushed herself back onto her legs and held tightly onto her wound, putting as much pressure on it as she could bear without crying out in pain. Watching as Michael slowly walked towards his target, she let herself breath once more as she was out of his sights. And as she did she felt a large hand wrap around her upper arm and haul her off the ground, pulling her out of the deep spiral that she was falling into.

            Her face was soon heaved next to her father’s, as his bloody and slightly battered face met hers. His eyes filled with concern, he took his daughter and hugged her tightly before walking in the same direction of the survivors. Of the exit. Of _Michael_.

            She tried to swerve him away from that direction, but he seemed dead set on escaping in that exit, even though Charlotte knew just as well as him that there were two exits out of the estate. Squirming in his grasp, she felt more blood start to pour out of her wound once again as she called on her muscles for more movement. She could barely hear at this point, the survivors screaming at the girl with the blonde hair, and her screaming at Michael and Michael, well, not saying anything.

            Charlotte pushed all of her weight onto her father before she realized that, he too, was bleeding immensely and the two were leaving a huge trail of sticky, clotted blood along the bricks. The wounds on his arms and back seemed to bleed profusely as he continued to use the muscles that interacted with them, pushing his body to the limit. All to save his daughter.

 

That sounded awfully familiar.

 

As Charlotte continued to look at the pavement beneath her, she heard a grunt from a girl and  a body scoot past her on her right, and she took a second to look up as someone stumbled behind her. The girl in front of her with the blonde hair was holding a sharp stone that was now dripping blood onto the ground and looking quite scared as she peered at what was behind Charlotte. On the ground between her and Michael was his mask, slashed open by the rock.

            Michael’s feet barely caught underneath him, and he regained his balance as he held onto his face tightly with one hand, pulling it away slowly to reveal blood coating his thin fingers. She couldn’t hear him say anything, but she was pretty sure he was angry. Charlotte’s father continued past, slowly pushing his daughter towards the other survivors with their arms outstretched to meet her. Pushing her softly in their direction, Charlotte fell into the arms of the man she met earlier, still patched up messily from the job the other woman did.

            She groaned as he pushed her up in his grasp and turned her for a better angle at carrying her. Barely holding onto his jacket, she felt herself going colder as the frosty frigid night kissed her skin.

            She watched as her father tried to follow her but was met with a spiny wall of spider legs blocking his path. He frantically tried to push his way through them before finally stopping his struggle and looking with desperation at his daughter.

            “Dad!” Charlotte managed to cough out as the man let her hold onto her father’s hands through the tangled wall. Her father continued to push on the wall as Michael’s soft footsteps came closer and closer, blood dripping off his chin as he kept his head down.

            His dirty blonde hair covered most of his face, but Charlotte could see his eyes. His _eyes_. She almost gasped in horror as they sucked all the warmth out of her face. They were piercing. And they were _mad_. And approaching her father.

            Charlotte’s father continued to push against the spiny wall and finally stopped, holding his daughter’s hand one last time before looking up at her with a smile.

            “Go, sweetheart. Please…” She saw his eyes misty next to his crow’s feet. “Save yourself.” He coughed up and let go of her hand before turning around to face Myers.

            Charlotte screamed. She kicked, and shrieked, and struggled, and squirmed. She did everything she could to get the man holding her to let go as he started to trek backwards away from the gate. Her adrenaline maintained the pain at a manageable level as she seemed to tear her wound open more. She had not come all this way to let her father just _die_. She was going to do _something_.

            But as Charlotte continued to holler in the man’s grip, her father turned to Michael and lowered his head, keeping his hands free at his sides. He was surrendering.

            Michael tilted his head as he approached Charlotte’s father, holding his knife slowly at his side as he saw the sadness in his body language. Turning his gaze slightly behind him to hear the girl who was screaming bloody murder, he stopped in front of the other man, straightening up to reach the same height as him.

            Charlotte’s father looked up in his eyes and continued his sad smile as he pushed his back against the spider legged wall. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Michael breathed out heavily, pushing the hair away from his face. His blood splattered face appeared as the hair brushed its way away from his cheekbones, revealing a bloody and mutilated eye beneath his left brow.

            As the silence grew thick, more shuffling appeared behind Michael as more sinister figures gathered around him. A woman with a rabbit mask, splattered with blood who held a formidable axe in her grasp. A disfigured boy, mouth pulled open in an eternal scream, who held onto not only a sledgehammer but a large and blood covered chainsaw. A long thin man, holding an axe connected to a disfigured and slightly collapsed skull. A nurse, whose feet did not touch the ground, face held still behind a white sheet. Time seemed to stop as more recognizable faces started to peer in, Leatherface and Freddy Kreuger had joined the parade. Their eyes glowing red with what seemed like pure rage, they breathed heavily as they closed in on the _deserter_. Or one who tried to be.

            Her father continued to wait for Michael to move as the tensions rose. It seemed like an eternity before anything happened. Charlotte had not expected to find her father, and lose him in the same day. As fate seemed to agree.

            Michael finally broke the silence by reaching down to her father’s hand and grabbing the mask that still laid in his hand. He held it between them as his other hand continued to hold the knife at his side. And he opened his mouth.

And he spoke.

 

            “Goodbye, Evan.”

 

 

            And with one swift movement, Michael dropped the knife, pulled the mask closer to him and pushed Charlotte’s father off balance, causing him to fall through the wall. It reformed around him and tangled itself stronger as soon as he hit the ground. And he was through it. He was on the other side. And Michael was left standing behind it.

            As well as everyone else.

            Her father, _Evan_ , collapsed on the ground outside of the wall and looked up in confusion at the man who stood behind the wall, trying to see inside those pitch black eyes to see what cogs were turning. But the opening was gone, and the light inside of his irises had already disappeared. He was left standing there as another one of the survivors grabbed Evan’s arm and started to pull him back away from the wall towards the other survivors who were struggling to contain Charlotte as she squirmed in their grasp. There was nothing left but the killers.

            And Michael.

            The one who didn’t.

            Laurie screamed as the killers instead surrounded him and kicked in his knees, causing him to fall to the ground in a grunt of pain. He looked up with sadness as the girl with the blonde hair screamed, having to have another one of the survivors hold her back from running to him. She kicked and screamed, much like Charlotte before, and shrieked with tears streaming down her face.

            It hit Charlotte.

            She was losing someone she loved.

            Someone she _knew_.

            And the more time that passed with the killers encircling Michael, the more Charlotte noticed the similarities and the fact that…

            _That’s Laurie Strode._

           

            _That’s her brother_.

            Charlotte was left limp in the arms of one of the survivors as her limbs continued to lose more blood. Her father helped her walk away, but she was left facing the back of the party as they left.

            Left to watch Michael _die_.

            The disfigured boy pulled his chainsaw from behind him, and with no remorse, in an animatronic fashion, revved the engine above Michael’s head. He did not look. He did not look anywhere but to his sister. His Laurie. Her screaming. Her crying. Her _pity_.

            And as Charlotte and Laurie were helpless but to watch, they observed as the boy lowered the chainsaw into his head. And splattered him _everywhere_.

           

            He fell to the ground, large wound through his face leaking blood onto the ground and spurting it from his hairline. The killers seemed unfazed, in a sort of trace in fact, as they grabbed the boy by the shoulder and led him away, only turning back for the woman with the axes to slam the corrugated metal of the gate back into place. Leaving Michael to be plucked away at by the crows who were already starting to circle.

            And the last thing Charlotte remembered was her father’s heavy breathing, his whispers, promising of help and of a hospital, and Laurie wailing. For her brother was gone.

            Charlotte may have made it out of that hell-hole with her family intact, but at the price of another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's it. I had this as a dream.
> 
> yeah it fucked me up too man
> 
> ANYWAYSSSSS i hope you enjoyed. I considered writing a sequel to this where things go relatively not stabby (let's be honest there's gonna be some stabby) but like... *groans in depression*
> 
> so idk if this gets a good response i might but eh  
> if not, no skin off my bones
> 
> k thanks for reading k bye


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